


She Didn't?

by muscatmusic18



Series: December Prompts [17]
Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Anger, Angst, December Prompt Challenge, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 11:27:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8889043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/muscatmusic18/pseuds/muscatmusic18
Summary: When Peggy might not come home from a mission.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to movrings for giving me this idea. Thank you!

Daniel closed the cover of ‘Twas The Night Before Christmas’, seeing that his three and four year olds were sound asleep in the dim glow of the night light in their shared room. Pressing a kiss to each of their foreheads, he set the book next to ‘A Christmas Carol’, their two favorites this time of year, and snuck out of the room.

Limping to the kitchen, he opened the cupboard for a mug, but paused at the sight of Peggy’s favorite cup, fingering the handle and smiling fondly.

She’d been on a mission in Russia for three weeks now, and was due back any day now. Good timing too, since it was a week before Christmas, and the kids were starting to really miss her.

Ladling himself a cup of the cider he and the kids had warmed up earlier, he stood at the kitchen window, looking out at all the Christmas lights lighting up New York, admiring the way the reds and greens twinkled alongside the pinpricks of light dotting the sky, not many visible, but enough to make a wish on. The night was always one of his favorite parts of the holidays, when the lights were allowed to shine through, and families were finally free to cuddle up together, music floating in the background, softly cutting through the laughs and joy of everybody sitting around the tree, sharing stories of the day.

Just as he was about to sit down, there was a knock on the door. Confused about who could pay him a visit this late, he looked through the curtain to see two S.H.I.E.L.D agents, both still impeccably dressed in their suits.

Unlocking the door, he opened it to the men. “Agents.” He greeted. “What can I do for you?”

One of the agents took off his hat. “There's been a… development, in Director Carter’s case. May we come in?”

He stepped aside for them, trying to keep his panic at bay. This could just be nothing, right?

“Can I offer you men anything to drink?” Daniel lead the two into the kitchen, trying to keep his voice level.

“No thank you, sir.”

After a slight awkward silence with the taller agent rocking back and forth on his feet, Daniel invited them to sit at the dining table.

“The last time that Director Carter made contact, she had followed a lead into Moscow, and she had planned to catch the suspects in a building where they were holding their front.”

“Earlier today,” the second agent continued, “the building exploded.”

Daniel’s breath hitched. This couldn’t be happening.

“No remains have been found, but the authorities have only just begun their search. There is still thousands of pounds of rubble to sift through, and your wife hasn’t made any contact.”

There was a pause, and all Daniel could hear was the pounding of his heart.

“No one could’ve survived, sir… We’re very sorry.”

He vaguely registered himself nodding, but his mind was whirling. This couldn’t have happened, she was Peggy Carter, nothing could destroy her. His wife couldn’t be dead, she was too strong, too fierce, and she was a mother for god’s sake, she couldn’t leave. They had children who missed her terribly, and it was Christmas. She had to be home for Christmas, for their kids at least. This couldn’t be happening.

His mind still a whirl, he showed the agents to the door, shaking their hands in apology before locking the door behind them and making his way back to the kitchen and his forgotten cider. The slight cinnamon scent to it reminded him of her perfume, and it was enough to shake the fog from his head. No, she wasn’t gone. If anyone could make it out alive, it would be Peggy Carter Sousa. Besides, they were partners, lovers, soulmates; wouldn’t he be able to feel it if she was truly gone?

Shaking his head, he strode to their bedroom and prepared for sleep, turning out the light and crawling into his side of the bed.

He knew she wasn’t dead. She couldn’t be.

~~~~~~~~~

Six days later on Christmas Eve, and there was still no sign of Peggy. No remains had been found, but still no contact or evidence she hadn’t been killed in the blast. 

Around four in the afternoon, he drove Colleen and Michael to his parents house, ignoring the pangs in his heart as he drove away from his children on Christmas Eve, but he couldn’t do Christmas without Peggy. He loved his children with all his heart, but all he wanted to do was drink. Christmas couldn’t go on without his love, but his little ones still deserved the best holiday possible.

He was numb the entire drive home, his mind a void. Nothing moved, not a thought came to mind.

The same at home. He moved through his chores like the walking dead, slowly, methodically, yet not an ounce of emotion.

Then, after hours of aimlessly completing tasks, he finally sat down at the kitchen table, a bottle of Peggy’s favorite whiskey in one hand and a glass on the other.

He watched the amber liquid flicker as candlelight shone through it, the dancing gem refracting through the edges of the bottle and creating fractals of light on the table, twirling along the grains of the hardwood table like it had a mind of its own; so free, so alive.

So unlike Peggy.

Tears filled his eyes, but he blinked them away, choosing to focus only on the amber fragments in front of him.

The word ‘death’ crossed his mind and while he pushed it away, the word ‘alone’ took its place.

Try as he might, words of grief and heartache kept bubbling up until the tears really did fall and he was suffocated by the reality of becoming a widower.

Widower.

That word kept repeating itself. He was a widower. A man who was married, but whose wife had died. A man without someone to hold at night. A man who would raise his kids alone, whose dead wife wouldn’t be there for all their milestones, who would never see another birthday of one of the children she had created. A man who was alone.

Rage filled his being as he stood, trying to contain it, but before he knew it a red haze was filling his vision and he was sweeping the glass and bottle off, shards and liquid flying everywhere, but it felt to good to stop. A nearby mug thrown, a tin of tea leaves scattered across the floor, and before he could stop it, he was pushing on the table, heaving until it lifted and was thrown, landing on its side and taking the chairs with it. 

Panting, he stared at the mess, shoes soaking with the whiskey spreading across the tile as he contemplated what to destroy next, the red in his vision becoming darker and darker until it was like blood painting the back of his eyes.

Before he could move, a familiar British accent came from behind him, tired, but still the same one he’d come to know oh so well.

“Daniel? What happened?”

He whirled around, the red disappearing in the blink of an eye as the image of his wife filled his vision instead, her arm held at a strange angle, weight being kept off of one foot, and bruises covering her body, but it was her nonetheless.

“Peggy?” He whispered. He wasn’t drunk, so why was his dead wife here? Had he lost it?

“It’s me. Sorry for not calling, but…” She shrugged, wincing as her shoulder moved. “The situation became much more dire than I expected.”

He exhaled, at a loss for words, so instead he moved towards her, touching her arm as though it might disappear if he did. When he found it to be solid, Daniel quickly enveloped her into a hug, jumping away when he heard her hiss in pain, but she grabbed him again, holding him even tighter than before.

“How?” He managed to whisper into her hair, still disbelieving that it truly was his wife here in his arms.

“It’s a long story.” She muttered into his shoulder. “Just thank the Howling Commandos, they’re the ones who figured out the whole case and saved my life.”

“Why didn’t you…”

“I couldn’t call. Believe me, I wanted to, but Hydra had to believe me dead. That meant no phone contact with you or S.H.I.E.L.D. I’m sorry to worry you, I didn’t mean-”

“That doesn’t matter now. You’re here and alive, that’s all I care about.”

Peggy lifted her head from his shoulder just long enough to kiss him, trying to deepen it but her hiss cut it off when her ribs were jostled. He looked at her in alarm, but she just shook her head, kissing him again.

“Where are the kids?” She asked.

“At my parents. I couldn't face Christmas without you.”

“It's probably for the best. As much as I want to hug and kiss them, I don't want them seeing me like this.” She motioned to her body, riddled with bruises and broken bones and scrapes.

“Then let’s get you fixed up. That way we can head over tomorrow so they can see you for Christmas.”

She nodded, reluctantly letting go of his torso and trying to head for the bedroom, but she cried out at the movement, so Daniel just grabbed his crutch and almost carried her, setting her down on the bed gently and finding bandages, gauze, and rubbing alcohol. First, he popped her shoulder back into place, holding her as she bit his shoulder and screamed; then wrapping her ribs, trying to ignore her whimpers of pain, before finally treating all of her scrapes with rubbing alcohol.

Over an hour later, they were finally able to curl up, Peggy sitting up because of her ribs and arm, but at least they were together.

In the morning, they would have to find a way to hide most of her bruises so that the kids wouldn't get scared, but that wasn't for a few more hours. For now, they could just lay and rest together, each grateful the other one was alive.


End file.
